Summer Rain
by Child of Loki
Summary: I know it's ridiculously early on to ship any pairing, but because I'm crazy, a brief little Brody/LaSalle smut scene.


**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**NCIS: New Orleans **_**or its characters…**

**Author's Note: *Shakes Head* Yeah… I know, I went there. I'm that crazy fan fiction writer who jumped the gun on this one. To be honest, this was first conceived as a scene for an original fiction story I'm writing, but Agent Chris LaSalle commandeered it, primarily because it works so much better with his Southern drawl. Also, I love the interaction/rapport between Brody and LaSalle thus far. And yes, it's definitely just a friendly sort of interplay in the show (for obvious reasons), but SMUT… I can't help myself. It's apparently a problem.**

**Judge me all you want.**

**WARNING: References to mature subject matter.**

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><p>"You. Taste. Good." He punctuated every word with a kiss on the highly-sensitized skin of her thigh.<p>

"Oh," Meredith Brody said, still struggling to obtain her normal breathing pattern. This was ridiculous. She could run a mile in under six minutes but she felt entirely winded from just lying there with her thighs spread and Chris LaSalle's tongue doing all of the work. He'd seemed really into it, judging by the end result, that of a spectacular orgasm for her. But, "Do guys really mean that? Or is it just something they say so that we'll let you..."

"Stick our tongues in your hoo-has?" He'd moved to bury his face in her neck and chuckled against the naked skin, tickling the spot beneath her ear with his warm breath. Her laughter joined his.

"Did you just say 'hoo-ha'?

"Yes. Yes, I did." There was no shame to be found in his languid southern drawl. In fact -a fact she'd learned in very short time- there seemed to be no notable shame in the man at all.

His fingers gently stroked her thigh as he lay pressed against her side, his face nestled in her neck, subtly nuzzling her bare skin. His manner was all patience and keen interest, as if he was perfectly content in helping her achieve sexual fulfillment without much concern to his own, and yet just as fascinated by her post-orgasmic body as he'd been previously focused on pleasuring her.

"Well... Are you trying to avoid the question?"

"Am I?" He hummed low in his throat.

She raked her nails over the back of his neck, making him groan lower and longer, not unlike a purring mountain lion.

"You know you don't have to satisfy my vanity," she said, stroking the nape of his neck more tenderly.

He chuckled. "Just your curiosity."

LaSalle shifted position so that he was hovering above her, looking down into her face. "I'm not a liar. Not _even _to satisfy a pretty lady's vanity."

He stared directly into her eyes with his dark blue ones, all intensity and predatory satisfaction, _just_ like a contented, well-fed panther.

"I like the way you taste," he said, contemplatively licking his lips in demonstration.

Meredith remained skeptical. It was in her nature to require hard evidence before she could truly believe an assertion. And while she considered herself more than an adequate interrogator and a good judge of character, LaSalle still remained somewhat of a mystery to her. He was more complex than his 'just a typical southern boy' act implied.

And apparently, there also resided within him a poet, for he proceeded to give her precisely what she had asked for in a prose so eminently constructed for his thick Alabamian drawl that it was practically a sonnet.

"You know, in the height of the summer, when it's been so _damned_ hot and sticky, you just wanna lie down and die... And then suddenly the heavens split wide open and the sweet rain comes pouring down. You close your eyes and breathe it in, long and deep. The scent of it settles in the back of your throat, so thick you can taste it, sorta... earthy and refreshing at the same time, you know? Just..." He made an appreciative noise. "Mm. Perfection."

Meredith was stunned into silence momentarily by his little, affectionate and borderline insightful speech, finally recovering her senses enough for the skepticism to return.

"So you're saying I taste like what rain _smells _like?"

"Yup," He began to tease her throat with kisses. "Just like a summer rain."

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><p><strong>AN: Well, I'm glad I got that out of my system.**


End file.
